A Lone Wolf Cries, A Weeping Thorn Blooms
by voicethepages
Summary: Legends talk of beasts that roam the night and take children from their mothers and fathers. Stiles Stilinski has heard these tales many times in his life, but now he's caught up in one. A Sterek, Beauty and the Beast AU. This isn't your average Beauty and the Beast.
1. And They Shall Come

There have been tales through the ages of horrifying beasts that take children in the night, rip their bodies to pieces, and eat their remains. The guttural noises they make are things of legend and are never heard to this day, but if you listen closely enough you may just hear their curse upon the living. If you overhear that curse you shall pray, for if not you shall find your soul stolen and feasted upon by the demons of the night.

,,,

"Stiles!" the teen boy called out, his dark curly hair bouncing around as he climbed another hill. "What are we doing out here again?" The wet leaves slid around under his boots and made squelching noises. A laugh escaped his mouth as his lungs strained in the chilled air, autumn had finally reached Beacon Hills just a few weeks before. Not hearing a response from his friend he called out again, "Stiles!"

"What are you yelling for?" Scott jumped his heart trying to hurdle through his rib cage. Stiles had appeared from seemingly nowhere in the condensed forest. "Come on my father said that the last incident was just this way," Stiles said enthusiastically pointing in the opposing direction towards a more open area.

As they reached the clearing a putrid smell overcame them and it took all of Stiles' control to keep from vomiting. Scott however was having a harder time dealing with the scene before them. There was dried blood and what looked like bits of flesh littering the ground before them. Maggots were crawling on the ground their disgusting white bodies clambering around looking for more food to fill their swelling stomachs. Stiles' stomach turned but he looked upon the sight with fascination. What in the world had done such a thing to a human? What could pull a human apart like that?

"Oh god," was all Scott uttered, his breath shattering the silence around them.

,,,

Goosebumps formed on Stiles' arm as Scott's reassuring hand pressed on his shoulder. He looked at his friend who was smiling at him, "I have to get on home or Allison and mother will start pestering the others. After all, we did mention we were going out on a quick hunt and I'm going to be in trouble for not bringing home any game." Stiles beamed. "Oh no, I know that face, I'm not doing anything that will get me into any more trouble!"

Stiles laughed, "Oh come on! It'll be fun we'll go hunting later tonight, that way in the morning Allison will have nothing to pester you about, although, she already worships the ground you walk upon lover boy." He chuckled again as Scott tried to make a hitting pass at his head.

The rest of the way was spent taking shots at each other and laughing more than normal. Maybe the two men just needed to get out of the strangeness the forest had strung on them. By the time the two reached the village, fires were already burning in homes and the smell of maple filled their noses. Scott waved to Stiles with a look that told him that, yes, he would be meeting him later tonight. Stiles watched as Scott entered his own home the light from inside swallowing his form before they disappeared altogether and there was nothing left but the dark of the night and the white light of the waxing moon.

Stiles' hand pushed against the wooden door and it opened with little struggle. The warmth of the house hit his face first and his body seemed to sigh in content. The door closed behind him and he noticed his father sitting at the small table they ate at on most nights. He looked up at his son before offering him a bowl for the warm and creamy soup just next to the hearth. After settling in and getting through the first few awkward conversations of the usual 'How was your day? What shenanigans did you get up to today?' a comfortable silence followed.

"So what would leave scratch marks like that?" A large sigh broke the silence.

"You just had to go to see it didn't you? Can't stay out of goddamn trouble can you?" His father pinched the space between his eyes. Stiles felt bad, he really did, but he just wanted to understand certain things. Like what and why people did what they did, the habits of the wildlife, how did it all connect? He jumped in surprise when his father's hand bumped the table. "Son, why can't you just leave this alone? I've already reckoned the killer to be a wild animal, some sort of mountain lion or dog. We all hear their moaning and crying at night, so pray tell me why you can't just heed my words." His father's eyes searched his, looking, no begging for some sort of answer to spill through.

Stiles just ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd picked up. His father just sighed from the other side of the table. His chair scrapped the floor and he pulled his coat on. "I'm going to check on the men and walk the gate. I know I'll regret saying this later, but please son, stay out of trouble."

"I promise dad," Stiles reassured his father with a smile.

,,,

The wet dirt under his shoes caved a little under the weight of his body as he walked to meet Scott. He found the nervous man near the perimeter the townsmen had made around Beacon Hills. He stood looking around and shuffling his feet in the leaves.

"Scott lets go," he says tugging on his shirt and pulling in another direction. They would head west from their spot, since it is most likely that his father hasn't assigned much security near the wall; towards the woods they had been in earlier in the day. There hadn't been any attacks this close to the village and even less incidents had been in these parts of the woods. All the attacks had been the same. Teeth and claw marks were all that was left on the mangled and nearly undistinguishable bodies by the time his father, or anyone for that matter, had found them.

The two boys settled on the ground behind trees to keep hidden from the other men. Getting scolded for trying to help his father was not on Stiles' agenda for the night. Time crawled on and the moon was higher in the branches when Stiles realized he was starting to drift asleep. When sleep was about to overcome him, the howls started, but Stiles couldn't fight the urge to keep himself awake. Dreams of wolf faces and morbid humans slithered through his dreams like demons from hell, gangly limbs, throbbing flesh, and teeth as large as his fingers. Wide blue eyes gazed into his and the screaming started, quiet and hardly there but then it became so loud. Couldn't they just be quiet? He couldn't concentrate! Whose blue eyes were those? Just be quiet! The ground was coming at his head too fast and he tried to put his hands out too late to keep himself from hitting the ground. Stiles was disoriented for a moment before he pulled himself up and he realized the screaming was still ringing out into the night. It echoed in his head strangely and the ground seemed to be at a diagonal. Where was Scott? He ran, his chest heaving, "Scott!" Where was he? He was right there with him. Had he gone off to relieve himself? Where was the bastard? As he ran through the darkened woods he had finally come to see some men gathered ahead. The screaming had quieted in his head and all he could hear now was heavy breathing and a small, continuous buzzing noise. It got louder as he wandered towards the men. Two of them turned around to look at him, they were angry, or was it pity that laced their eyes?

People were pushing and shoving at him. His body felt so weird, like when one had a head cold and it felt like it was full of thick cotton. His mouth was terribly dry. The world around him was whirling uncontrollably around him. A heaviness and heart ache filled his being as the people gripped him with their filthy fingers. Why wouldn't people just stop touching him? Couldn't they just tell him where Scott-

"Oh god." Scott. It was Scott wasn't it. There was a body; a body that only Stiles could possibly recognize. It was ripped open, torn to bits of shreds and scraps of meat that even dogs would care not for. There was so much blood…Oh God above, there was so much blood. "S-Scott. " His body wouldn't move as his blood froze within the very veins.

"Stiles," His father was calling him and those damn hands just wouldn't stop touching him! Fighting through them, the teen pushed through the hands and slapped them away. Damn them all!

"Scott!" Why wasn't- why wasn't he moving?! He was just lying there and scaring the shit out of him. "Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP! DAMMIT SCOTT!" Unable to keep himself at the side of the corpse, the grotesque hands of people drug him away, like some lifeless doll with no power or control.

"STILES!" His father was yelling and pulling his shirt. "What the hell are you doing here son?" His grip was practically choking him, everything was so hot outside suddenly. "Son-"

"He's trouble Stilinski! We all told you!"

"See what he's done!"

"Throw him out! He's nothing but a nuisance!"

"He'll get us all killed! Get him out of here Stilinski or we'll do it for you!"

Those hands were pushing him out and home, but he knew, he knew those disgusting maggots would be back and they would be their endless pit selves. Just there to feast and gorge themselves on everything anyone ever loved. Everything Stiles had ever loved.

"Son, I need you to get out of this trance for just a few moments. We can't stay here any longer." _You can't stay here any longer._ "People, people just don't understand that you're trying to help." _You're just getting in the way of everything I've ever tried to create for us. _"We have to leave first thing tomorrow morning. We'll travel east to the next town over. We're no longer wanted here." _You're no longer wanted. _His father's hands tightened on his shoulders. Why couldn't people just let him walk on his own? Was he not trusted enough? He was being treated as if he were a boy. Maybe that's what everyone thought he was, just a boy.

,,,

The stream water tasted stale and he could feel bits of dirt grind down in his teeth. Stiles splashed his face with the same water hoping it would alert his senses and his body would be more awake. His father slapped him on the shoulder signaling that it was time to move on once more. He picked up the cart again and with his back muscles straining and pulled it along the trail again. It was the second day out of town and it seemed like winter was already striking the forest around them. The ground was harder and a chill had started to seep into Stiles' clothing.

By nightfall, Stiles was trying his hardest not to fall asleep. The lack of fire was forcing his body to shiver its way into warmth but he dare not let himself fall into his fitful sleep he'd been having as of late. Nightmares of bugs and carcasses filled his head. The screaming was always louder and rang through his head every morning. A storm was forming overhead and wind was starting to weave through the trees. It whistled its way around the trunks and through the bends of the uneven terrain. Stiles knew the howling and the groaning of the trees would start soon. He covered his head and prayed that his sleep tonight would be restful.

,,,

The land was overcome with ice and falling snow. The entire forest was nothing but white as the moon reflected off of the frozen water. There were sheets of hail currently raining down on the two soaked men who had become lost a day before. After waking up, Stile's father had announced that the trail was missing. Snow had pelted the area and ever since then they hadn't been able to get any sort of sign of the path.

"Stiles, I think, I think I see something up ahead! A house or some sort of building!" He tugged at his son's shirt. Stiles followed his father and pulled the cart with much effort through the thickening snow. He trudged through it and the small family found themselves before a house indeed. It was a manor a very large and wealthy manor, though something was strangely off. Stiles looked around but the falling snow was so thick there was nothing to see except for the dark house before them. His father looked and him as though to say it was now or never and proceeded to pull the rope for the bell.

"Excuse us!" his father called out. "We're looking for a place we might stay for the night and keep out of the storm!" it was a good effort, but it seemed like the wind was picking up his voice and stealing it away.

They stood there for a moment more, waiting for some sign of life from the windows to hint that people actually lived inside. The large oak door before them groaned and out of the dark of the hall stepped a man. His height wasn't much more than Stiles' father but his build was indeed impressive. He was refined from his clothing to his stature, and his bright blue eyes were like nothing Stiles had ever seen. He smiled at Stiles and his father, something that seemed to pull all his attention into, the cold weather must be getting to Stiles' head.

"Excuse us. We're looking for a place we might stay the night out of the storm. If there is some sort of stable or barn we would be very much in your debt-"

"There is no cause for such formalities Mr.?"

"Stilinski, sir," his father nodded.

"Mr. Stilinski, welcome would you please come inside, where we can have this conversation in a more appropriate area?" He waved the two inside and out of the storm. With the cart abandoned outside, the two discarded their outer clothing and left them to dry. The two men were led down the hallway to a sitting room where a fire had already been started. "Please sit and take rest. I'll call for tea and in the meantime you can perhaps introduce me to your situation, we would love to have you until this snow storm has let up." His smile was once again drawing in Stiles, and those blue eyes, he just couldn't get over how radiant they were even in a dark room such as the one they were in.

Stiles yelped, an entire conversation had been going on, on his behalf and he had missed it until his father had decided to step on his foot. He was currently giving him a stern look.

"I'm sorry he's been distracted ever since we left Beacon Hills. He's had quite a loss," his voice trailed. Why in the world would his father tell such personal things to people they'd never met? "Stiles, Mr. Hale has offered to take you into his home," his eyes shot over to Mr. Hale, what was this man thinking taking in the two of them.

"I-I'm sorry. I must be very confused, dad do you know Mr. Hale? I don't mean to be rude but why would I stay here if we're heading just east of here?" Stiles thought he would never get used to that drop of his father's jaw when he was embarrassed or frustrated with his son. Then there was the silence that filled the room before Mr. Hale let out a laugh, and there was nothing that could prepare Stiles for the embarrassment he currently felt. His face was suddenly hot and his nerves were frazzled.

,,,

The nearby fire crackled in the grate which did nothing to settle Stiles. Each pop reminded him of the bone crunching and tendon popping that he lived through every night. The sickening noises turned his stomach. He pulled his hands over his ears trying to keep the noises from grating in his mind. A warm hand on his knee broke his concentration and he looked up at his father.

"Son I know that this is all going so suddenly, but Peter is offering you a great, once in a lifetime chance. Your mother and I…we always talked about- hoped for the chance to give you an education," his father never talked about his mother. Stiles saw that his eyes were glossy in the firelight.

Between the two of them his mother was taboo. She had died when Stiles was only eight and he barely even remembered much about her. It was like glimpses of memories; tag through the woods, singing songs in her lap, running his fingers in her long curly hair, the freckles that dusted her cheeks, just the small things. He knew he was lucky to remember the small things, his father remembered everything, had years of memories, years of love and afterwards years of anguish.

"This is a tough decision for me as well. I have to leave you behind," Stiles started. His father held up his hand, "Now wait. It's a deal I'm willing to make on your behalf and while you get your education I'll have time to raise what we need to live comfortably. Stiles this really is for the best." The hand against his knee squeezed harder. He was being left behind.

,,,

His father's coat sleeves had barely slid onto his arms before he had grabbed Stiles into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around him. He knew his father didn't truly want to leave him. If Stiles was honest with himself he would rather just leave with his father but he knew that this may actually be his only chance to get an education. A proper education was something Stiles only ever dreamed of obtaining. To have the chance at his fingers was making his nerves hum with excitement.

"I love you son," he clung to his father for as long as their last moments together would allow. "Love you too dad."

Stiles and Peter Hale watched as his father made his way through the snow. As his back retreated from him and the large door closed. Stiles felt himself falling into that black space he thought he'd never hideaway to again.

"Come, let me show you where you'll be staying Stiles," Peter lightly brushed his shoulder as he passed. They wandered through many rooms on the first floor, filled with dining tables, candles, and portraits galore. Stiles thought it strange that there wasn't much in the way of servants through the manor. Honestly he hadn't seen any since he'd arrived only hours earlier with his father but hadn't had the time to mull it over until now.

"Is there much of your family here as well Mr. Hale?" Peter paused on the stairwell.

"There are a few left, my nephew and his cousins, mostly your age I suppose. Most of my immediate family passed in a fire from the forest years ago," he continued making his way with Stiles following quietly behind, giving his silent condolences. The upstairs was even gloomier than the ground floor. Did no one live here? Ahead of him Peter stopped and glanced back at Stiles who had stopped to look at another grand staircase leading in two directions. "Those are the East and West wings. They were both heavily affected during the fire and are currently not to be explored. Your room is just this way," he urged Stiles onward.

They quickly arrived at a door and Stiles was ushered in by Peter, "Please try not to wander the halls at night, it's very hard to see and I'd like to keep any accidents from happening. Breakfast is always at 7 o'clock sharp. And Stiles," He leered, "call me Peter."

,,,

Stiles was very baffled by Peter, he really couldn't begin to understand the man that had just graciously accepted him into his home. He began his exploration of his room which turned into himself sitting on the bed staring in awe. He had never seen such a grand room in all his life. There was a desk, a bed, a mirror, and a wardrobe. The window wasn't just a window itself, there was a seat in front of it as well. Stiles could see that it was close to a full moon maybe two days away and the months were nearing the end of the year. A sound clicked on the other side of the room and Stiles stood. No that couldn't have been the- could it? He wandered to the door and turned the handle. He pushed, nothing happened.

"No," he breathed. "No! You can't lock me in here! NO!" His fist hit the door but he continued to struggle with the handle the door wouldn't even budge. Black was surrounding him there wasn't anywhere he could go. There wasn't any air in here and it was so hot, he pulled at his collar. Why couldn't they just let him out he just needed air! "Please, please…please" he begged his body sliding down the door, he was starting to sweat and his throat was dry. His hands shook against the floor and he realized his entire body was shaking. There was that damn screaming again! It was so loud. "STOP! JUST STOP IT!" he yelled his whole body caving on itself. His hands covered his ears slamming against them a few times, squeezing and pushing. Stop the damn screaming. Stop it Scott. Stop screaming! "Scott…please!" Nothing would make the noise go away and this time it sounded like it was with him, it wasn't an echo it was too close for that. Stiles opened his eyes again, when had he closed them? There were red and white dots dancing everywhere, Scott where was Scott? He gasped for air but there wasn't any, _he was all alone._

* * *

_AN: This is my first fanfiction in over 6 years and wow I worked on this for a really long time. I'd love to hear everyone's feedback! I know Derek wasn't in this chapter but he'll show up in the next one so please be patient with me! I'll be uploading these chapters on Tumblr as well for those of you who are interested, the link for my Tumblr is on my Profile. _


	2. To Sin By Silence

Wind was howling outside the window as the ice pattered against the glass. Stiles' body tried to close in on itself more, but the fetal position he was laying in was uncomfortable. He opened his eyes the room was dark excluding the light coming in from the window. His joints popped and his muscles screamed as he sat up. A groan escaped his lips. Where was he? Stiles pressed his eyes into his hands there was a roaring ache in his head like a rolling storm just waiting to break and let the rain out. Looking at his surroundings he gathered he was still in the mansion they had arrived at last night, a string tugged his memory.

Picking himself up from the floor he wandered to the bowl sitting on the desk. Stale water sat in the bowl, but Stiles wasn't going to complain. He felt disgusting like he would never be able to clean the dirt that he was covered in. When the water hit his face he shuddered, those blue eyes from his dream flashed in his mind. He almost jumped back in surprise at the shriek that rang through his head. He reached for the towel to dry his face and hands. That's when he noticed there wasn't a looking glass. Actually it looked as though it had been ripped from the hinges of the desk. Strange. He brushed it off for now and wandered to the door. Gripping the handle in his hand he felt a rush of panic before the door was pushed open. He let out a sigh of relief.

Stiles looked into the hallway, his vision felt tunneled as he looked into the glaring white of the window at the end of the hall. Everything was so dark here, the oil lamps barely gave any light to the halls of the heart of the manor. As the handle fell from Stiles' hand he left with a sense of eyes watching his movements. No paintings littered this hall, very unlike the others he had come across on the first floor. He closed his eyes as he neared the window, the light was creeping in and upsetting the ache in his head. Needles pinched behind his eyes and he turned his head. In his effort he saw a strange shape around the corner it was too dark to see clearly while bright squares danced in his vision.

"Mr. Hale?" Stiles called out and put a hand up to keep the light out of his eyes. Each time he closed his eyes the squares flashed brighter. The shape was so strange it seemed to be made of some sort of shadow or maybe fire by the way it was moving, it was like watching something molten. The form it was taking was so familiar it was like he'd seen this thing before, but that couldn't be it was just a trick of his eyes. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them the molten thing was gone like it hadn't just been there, flickering at the air around it like flames.

,,,

The ground floor of the house was what Stiles would typically think a grand house of this families' stature would look like; well lit, paintings and portraits decorated the walls and hallways. Walking down the staircase Stiles could hear murmuring in one of the rooms and he followed his hearing. It must have been the dining room with its long wooden table and chairs. The table was littered with food and drinks galore, crystal glasses and silver platters laid in front of each seat. Two men were seated at the table and as Stiles entered the room they both stared at him and not in the most pleasant of ways. Their blue eyes held a very piercing gaze and it seemed like an all-out attack might start had Stiles not yielded.

"Erm, good morning? Mr. Hale said that breakfast was bright and early, so…here I am." The silence in the room was the definition of awkward. Stiles sat down in a chair just to his left, the pair not touching their food or moving a muscle. He bit the inside of his cheek, "My name is Stiles Stilinski," there was a snort from the blonde haired man, "you two must be Mr. Hale's nephews?"

"Peter must have thought he was being funny, bringing in _kids_. What will he bring in next, women?" The blonde man scoffed and took a drink from his glass, all the while keeping his eyes on Stiles.

Stiles clenched his fingers in his lap. With his back straight in the chair he glanced over at the second cousin. There was no surprise that his eyes were also blue, but his, much like Peter's eyes drew Stiles in, look away, he told himself, _look away_. He found himself trying to read the guy instead. He looked older than Stiles, but not aged and his features were strong from his jawline to his torso, he was a man built for work. _Look away_. He glared at his plate. Maybe if he looked at it long and hard enough the frustration he was feeling would dissipate. These men were so full of themselves and here they sat at a table that would be enough for five feasts in his village not eating a bite in front of him.

"Oh look Derek, I've made the little guy mad. He thinks he's a big man, not like the little peasant he is. Doesn't even realize why Peter brought him here," laughed the unnamed blonde taking a bite from some sort of glazed meat.

"He probably thinks this is an act of kindness. Only someone without a brain would be dumb enough to believe that though." Jackson laughed, "Derek, do you think Peter brought him to us as a servant? Finally, someone to clean this place up, but I doubt he can even manage a broom correctly." The dark haired man, seemingly named Derek got up, his chair scrapping against the wooden floor. His dishes clattered as he placed his silverware down hard on the table and made his way through the entranceway, his gaze never once meet Stiles'.

A shiver ran up his spine, the feeling lingering in his neck in a strange sort of vibration that tickled and disturbed him. His brain was pulling at a memory again but it was so muddled in Stiles' brain he couldn't find much room to care. His stomach turned uncomfortably and the room was getting unbearably hot under this man's ridicule. With as much strength as Stiles could muster he stood from his chair and stumbled from the room. If seeing red was possible, Stiles vision would be coated in crimson.

,,,

Dust curled in the hallway and made tiny swirls in the air. Stiles stopped and took a few deep breaths, lately it was like he could never get a good deep fresh breath of air. He really needed to get out of this insane house, it was making his head feel like it would split open any moment.

Footsteps alerted Stiles that someone was just around the corner. Maybe Peter had finally made his way down to breakfast. He seemed like the sort of man who was waited on and no matter the time was never late.

"Scott?" The words left Stiles' mouth before his brain could comprehend what he was seeing. As he turned the corner the man on the other end had stopped and looked back at Stiles. There was no mistaking that mop top of a head. He couldn't make out any other features though, he was sure that was Scott. Stiles started at the man but the figure started in the other direction. "Scott!" Stiles picked up his pace and sprinted around the next corner and then the next. The house was a giant maze of twists and turns. Stiles called after Scott again, he was sure it had to be him, why wouldn't he just stop and listen to Stiles? _Scott what are you doing here? What the hell happened in the woods? I knew that it couldn't have been you! _"Scott!" Stiles braced himself for the door that had suddenly appeared as he'd rounded the last corner. The wood door busted open as he hit it hard with his body. His shoulder was most definitely going to ache tomorrow. "Scott?" The name dribbled from his mouth as he took in his surroundings. He was in some sort of garden.

It was a strange garden. Stiles had never seen one like it. There was glass everywhere and all the plants were so green. His mind was telling him it wasn't possible, it was winter. Everything should be dead or barren. In this room of sorts there were trees, flowers, and herbs Stiles had never seen before. Vines were growing on walls and through crevices, filling as much space as they could consume.

Stiles didn't see Scott anywhere. He sighed in frustration; he must be crazier than he thought. Maybe he was running fever. Stiles sat on a rock ledge where mint leaves were growing like weeds. His father was gone, his best friend was dead, and now he was going insane. Could his life get any better? He slumped, all the fight and excitement gone from his body. There was a rustle of paper that startled him. Leaning forward he could see just around the other side of the ledge, there sat a man with blonde hair. Stiles' inclined position tipped a bit too much and he found himself face first on the cobbled floor.

A startled laugh erupted from the man and Stiles looked at him feeling extremely aggravated and embarrassed. He watched as the man's curly hair danced on his head while he laughed. He smiled at Stiles and bent down to reach out a hand, "I guess I should really offer you some help, it was really rude of me to laugh, but your expression was too precious really." Stiles flushed but took the hand gratefully.

"I was just- I thought I saw- You were-", Stiles stumbled over what to say to this man. He was most definitely part of the Hale family. He had those impossible blue eyes the rest of the household bore. The man just kept smiling at Stiles, like he knew all the internal fights and struggles Stiles was resisting.

"I'm Isaac."

,,,

Stiles wiped his hands on his pants his nerves were making them sweat. He and Isaac were sitting and talking and had been for quite a while now. The wind was still howling outside telling them that the snow storm wouldn't be letting up any time soon. Stiles had learned that Isaac was a cousin of Derek's, also that the Hale family was complicated in a way he couldn't even begin to understand. Stiles was beginning to feel like every person in the household was deliberately giving him less information each time he asked a question. Too many thoughts filled his head, more than before talking with Isaac about his brooding cousin and the blonde prat; whose name he found out was Jackson.

"He-he called you a servant?!" Isaac was laughing at Stiles' expense again. There was something about how light Isaac's laughter was making him feel that Stiles joined in. Really, had he been so stupid about the whole ordeal? It really was funny if you thought back on the idea. Jackson was really just full of himself. "That idiot would make out with an image of himself if any were in existence," Isaac snorted and pulled a thread from his lapel. Stiles glanced at the book Isaac had been reading when he'd stumbled awkwardly into the green house, as Isaac had called it.

"Is there a library here?" Stiles pointed at the book in question. It was in a language that Stiles couldn't understand but assumed was some sort of Latin. He'd heard of it only once before from a woman that was dear to him in town. His heart was full of regret at never saying goodbye to her. Lydia was such an intelligent and beautiful young woman, she would never know of the love he held in his heart for her. But never mind that now, Stiles needed to focus on the tasks at hand. Isaac was holding the book in his hands and running his fingers down its spine. A shiver ran down Stiles' back as if Isaac were running those fingers down his own back, it was bewitching to watch those hands.

"-actually there's the family library. There's books on everything you could possibly imagine," Isaac explained, his hands expressing his excitement for the treasures he'd found in the library before. "There must be a couple hundred books just on Greek and Roman mythologies and histories in there and don't even get me started on the Botany texts in there, it's what's helped this garden grow to what it is today." Isaac looked so proud that it made Stiles chest swell with happiness. Some part of him reminded him of Scott, but more aware of the world around him. He held back the heat that pricked at the back of his eyes and stood.

"I must get going Isaac, I still need to find Mr. Hale and sort out some issues," his hand laid on the blonde's shoulder for a moment. "Will you promise to show me the library sometime?" Isaac's smile quickly turned into a frown. He shook his head, "I can't. No one is allowed in there since the fire." His voice was disappointed, he looked at the hand Stiles was resting on his shoulder. Stiles pulled it away. He had lingered too long and overstepped his boundaries. "I'm very saddened to hear that. I'm sorry I asked." He left the glass room before Isaac could say anymore.

He would have to learn the boundaries of the Hales before he trespassed into unfamiliar territory again.

,,,

When the day was done and over with, Stiles had learned very little by walking through the house. He hadn't found Peter in any of the probably sixty or so rooms he had ventured into warily. From the time of breakfast until now he hadn't met any other Hale members aside from the mentioned three. Stiles had skipped dinner thinking he couldn't stand another minute alone with Jackson and Derek even if Isaac had come along, the thought of it made his stomach turn. So he retired to his room and had found his belongings inside. His clothes had already been put away and fresh water and soap sat at the desk from this morning. Someone had touched his things, a person Stiles didn't know. The thought had goose flesh crawling across his skin so fast that his whole body froze with shock. His brain sat for a moment in a blanket of ice cold fear. Maybe there were servants around the house, but they only came for a few hours a day. That had to be it, there was no way the Hales would handle such conventional tasks on their own. Stiles sat and tried to figure out the muddled state his head had worked itself into. His ache was starting to pry its way back in like a thick black sludge that confused everything, and blurred his vision. He was temporarily distracted when a knock sounded on the door.

"Hello?" There wasn't an answer but Stiles got up from the bed, trying to remember just how long he'd been sitting there. Another knock sounded and Stiles decided he should probably open the door. When it opened a whirl of cold air poured in and Stiles realized he was looking at Derek Hale. The man was only a couple inches taller than himself, which Stiles was greatly relieved by. His approach this morning had intimidated Stiles into thinking he was a very sizeable man.

It didn't seem like Derek enjoyed being in the circumstances he was currently in. "I wondered if you would be joining us for dinner tonight?" Stiles' hand fidgeted with the door, clenching with nerves. "Ah, no I don't think so. It doesn't seem like I'm much appreciated at meals anyways, so you shouldn't have bothered to ask," he closed the door, but not without catching the anger rising in Derek's face.

"I didn't have to come at all you ungrateful fool!"

Stiles fell down onto the bed and tried not to think about how he'd love if Derek's blood actually boiled him.

,,,

It sounded as if a small animal was trying to burst out of Stiles' stomach by the noises it was producing. He was trying to distract himself by writing a letter to his father. It consisted of very few of the strange things Stiles had seen through the day and mostly kept to subjects like Isaac and the mystery of the library. Writing about the secrets of the Hale family would just worry his father, possibly more than he was worrying about him now. Stiles hoped his father had made it to the village and hadn't been caught up in the storm that had been screaming and raging outside last evening.

His stomach unleashed another rumble of hunger pains. Obviously writing was not distracting him enough. Stiles ran his hand through his hair, it was nice to be able and run his fingers through thick longer hair, different from his usual strict close cut his father gave him. He sighed. He never believed that being away from his father for this short of a time would trouble him so much.

Looking out the window Stiles realized he must have been in his room for hours, just since Derek had come to invite him to dinner. "Oh god," Stiles mumbled. Had he really been so insensitive that he'd offended Derek deliberately? He groaned. This damn ache in his head just wouldn't leave, although at this point Stiles knew he'd forced some of the pain and stress on himself. There was a noise at the door, not necessarily a knock, but it was there. He made his way to it and stood listening for a moment. It was there again a moment later. Stiles opened the door and it was like déjà vu Derek stood there on the other side, though looking much less angry. His mouth twisted for a moment before he decided to speak up.

"You didn't come to dinner. So here, food," he offered a tray to Stiles. Stiles looked at the tray, which was littered with food, with bewilderment. He put up his hand to refuse the tray but Derek practically shoved the tray into his hands. He made sure Stiles had a good grab on it before standing back, and then he looked at him and nodded. Did he want Stiles to eat right here? This had to be one of the more strange moments in his life, and he's been having that feeling quite often since he'd arrived here. Stiles almost dropped the tray in his fumbling as Derek took leave down the dark hallway.

"Thank you," Stiles called after him, and regretted it only slightly as his head pounded. He closed the door with his foot hoping that it wouldn't slam shut. Fate wasn't usually on Stiles' side but right now he would take what he could get.

,,,

Stiles started making a habit of wandering into the green house while he explored the manor. Talking with Isaac was quickly becoming one of the only things he looked forward to. Especially in this mad house he was an unwanted guest at.

As of right now, Stiles was sitting with Isaac who was telling him all the healing properties of comfrey flowers. The little purple flowers were really incredible. Stiles had taken to bringing his journal with him to record most things Isaac taught him. You never knew when the information would be helpful. "Isaac how do you know so many things?" Stiles smiled as the curly top looked at him questioningly. "I mean I can barely remember my way back to my room and here you are giving me the histories on plants like no book could ever being to dream of detailing," he said in awe.

Isaac grinned, a smile that would put Scott's to shame and made goose flesh ripple on Stiles' arms. "I suppose that's just natural selection at work," Isaac said nonchalantly. Stiles snorted and bumped Isaac with his shoulder and maybe hoping that he would fall out of his crouching stance. To his dismay Isaac didn't fall and kept his balance most impressively, he hardly even flinched. Stiles leaned back and watched as Isaac tending and carefully pulled a few of the plants from the damp ground. "So what do you think about joining me and the others for dinner tonight?" Stiles gawked at Isaac.

"I uhm," he honestly had no clue how to respond to that. Did he want to go sit at another meal where Jackson sat and berated him with how young he was or how common his family was? That pompous prat, Stiles was in the strong belief that this was the only word to describe Jackson. Secondly there was Derek. Derek Hale, the name just rolled off your tongue if you thought about it and Stiles had thought about it. It really was a nice gesture the other night, him bringing food even though Stiles had been a complete jerk to him in the first place. But he tried not to dwell on it too much. If he did he might start to think about how good this family was at getting under his skin. Staying in this house was just confusing him on all sorts of levels.

"I guess I could make an exception."

,,,

There was thunder rolling through the hills that surrounded the house and the wind had picked up again. It was crying in the attic and creaking boards in the ceilings. The agony of the house was just elevating Stiles' nervousness. The anticipation of the dinner tonight was killing him. He was so scared of setting himself on fire in conversation tonight that he was shuddering with anxiety. Stiles peered into the dining room and immediately saw Isaac. He was smirking at Jackson, entirely too happy while Jackson sat with a frown on his face. Well that made him feel a little better. Stiles smiled when Isaac made eye contact with him but the expression on Isaac's face was so serious, was he embarrassed to associate with him in front of his cousin?

"Derek, are you going to join us as well?" Stiles' head whipped around, his neck straining itself in his rush. Derek stood a few feet behind him, his eyes shifting away from Stiles in an almost unnoticed movement. How long had he been standing there? Stiles tried not to stare but Derek just stood there for a moment or two before moving past him into the dining room, Stiles didn't miss the way his shoulder just barely brushed his own.

Stiles took a seat just across from Isaac. The four men sat in an awkward silence before Derek served himself and the other two cousins began. Stiles sat frozen completely unsure of what to do before Isaac nudged him with his knee. He broke out of his trance. This was going to be one long dinner.

,,,

Dinner was dreadful and that was an understatement. Jackson had been eerily quiet the entire time. Isaac had tried politely conversing with Stiles but Stiles had been so disturbed by the entire event he had barely responded. He felt bad thinking back on it. He really just wanted Isaac to enjoy being with him.

Interesting, where had that come from? Stiles had never really thought about it, but he had really been pining for Isaac's attention lately. He had thought it only natural with Isaac being the only remotely social person in the house, that he'd want to spend time with him, but when had it turned into…well whatever he was thinking of right now? Stiles sat up in his bed his mind reeling.

It wasn't that he hadn't been attracted to men before, for a long while as a child he'd tell his dad that he was going to marry Scott when he grew up that he was going to be his bride, and a few years after there was Danny, a boy who had been passing through the village who had liked to share kisses in the woods at dusk. Stiles had always envisioned that he and Lydia would marry in the end, he'd never once heard of a promise between two men, but imagined it wasn't practical in any sense.

He groaned loudly the noise disturbing the quiet in the dark room. The storm still hadn't passed and Stiles could only think of how much the weather had been mirroring his inner turmoil. He threw a pillow across the room. Lightning suddenly lit up his room and he shielded his eyes from the brightness. Two blue dots danced in his vision reminding him of his strange nightmares. Those damn blue eyes! He jumped out of his bed and grabbed his notebook. He set the lamp on its flame flickered. Stiles started drafting what he knew from memory. Tonight his ink would become the story of what had happened on the night of Scott's death. He would never forget the day his best friend was stolen from him by a monster.

,,,

Stiles felt like he was in a dream state most days. He had started keeping away from dinners again. They were too stressful to keep suffering through. He couldn't sit there and honestly talk to Isaac. Isaac, Stiles had been avoiding him like the plague. He didn't want to seem like a jerk but it was all for the best. Isaac didn't need to get caught up in Stiles' sexual frustrations. He wanted to laugh at that, like this was all purely a sexual thing. Yeah right, if only it was that simple.

He shook his head to try and clear his mind. Right now he needed to get his priorities straight. Stiles had decided once and for all that he was going to get this education and he was going to get it any way he could. He figured what with the social interactions not overwhelmingly going as planned, that he would try and find the library that was so off limits to him. He really didn't see any harm in it. His father would have told him otherwise.

Storms had been picking up more often as of late which kept the Hales and Stiles inside more frequently than normal. Stiles was just starting to get used to the quiet before another thunder clash scared him out of his wits. He covered his mouth to keep a yelp from coming out. After dinner the other night, Stiles just couldn't shake the feeling of someone always standing behind him. It made his skin absolutely crawl.

After finally finding the staircase to the East and West wings of the household, Stiles played on the idea of which direction to go. Another clap of thunder sounded and Stiles scampered up the West Wing's staircase. He practically tripped up them in his hurry. Some time passed by before he found any rooms that weren't locked or sealed shut. As he opened the door a cloud of dust hit him in the face and he coughed and choked. Once he finally inhaled clear air and rubbed the tears from his eyes he looked into the room. It was untouched by the fire, mostly it seemed, but it was so dark and everything was covered in large drapes, from ceiling to floor. Stiles walked up to one of the drapes moved it aside. He had found the library.

He swiftly began pulling the drapes from the shelves and walls all the while shielding his face from the oncoming dust. Although that didn't keep him from coughing and spluttering each time the dust did decide to insult his general area. The windows were filthy Stiles realized once he'd pulled down the fabric. What was being let in couldn't really even be called light, it was too dim. He used his hand to wipe away some of the grime and immediately regretted it. Oh well, he decided as he wiped his hand on his trousers. Stiles smiled he'd found the library, goal accomplished.

He wandered the aisles and read many titles; the Hales had extremely large sections on plants, animals, and mythologies. A strange mixture Stiles had to admit. He pulled a book from the shelf, one he'd never heard of before, it was not English but the pictures in it provided much information. There were horrifying pictures of men attacked by beasts, wolfish in form or quite the opposite these strange creatures being brutally murdered by man. Stiles closed the book as quickly as he had opened it. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he swallowed dryly. The howls they'd used to hear back home, they couldn't be these things could they? It's not like the wolves around the village had ever attacked, they had no reason to. Stiles placed the book under his arm and turned down the next aisle. Between two shelves at the end was another drape. He must have missed that one. He pulled the dark fabric from the wall only struggling with it for a few seconds. The first thing Stiles noticed about the painting was the eyes. Like the rest of the Hale family the woman's eyes were blue. Cuts of some sort marred the beautiful painting of the woman with long dark hair, claw marks Stiles realized as he leaned in closer, his face only a few inches from the painting. He was abruptly pulled from the painting his mind reeled. He was going to die.

"What are you doing?!" Derek. Yes he was most definitely going to die. Stiles flailed in Derek's grasp, "I-I I was just- I was looking for a book!" He finally managed. Derek's hand tightened on Stiles' neck and he winced at the pain. Derek made a noise that could only be described as a growl as he shoved Stiles back towards the door, one hand still on his neck. "You can't come in here," Derek hissed in his ear, "ever."

Stiles tried not to think of how his hands were sweating or the ice cold feeling he was getting because Derek was walking way too close. The heat emanating off of Derek's body was overwhelming. Where they were going now he had no clue, his brain was racing at a million miles a second. Derek was going to throw him out in the storm out in the cold to die. He would take him back to the village he was from and let the people tear him to bits just like those creatures had done to Scott. Before Stiles knew what was going on he was being thrown into his own room with Derek following. He watched as the Hale member glanced down the hallway before shutting and locking the door. Stiles crawled back towards his bed. Oh God, everything was going to end here wasn't it?

"Stiles," he peeked an eye open and saw that Derek was staring at him. "Let me see the book," Oh. He had forgotten that he still had it. He pulled the book from under his arm and handed it to Derek. Sadly he couldn't prevent his hand from shaking and dropped the book. Derek didn't have any trouble catching it from midair. As he flipped through it Stiles found enough courage to stand up and straighten his clothes. Stiles jumped when the book slammed shut. Derek was looking up at him from the book as if he were trying to understand something. Was he analyzing him? Stiles felt violated as Derek's eyes roamed his body for a few moments. Jesus, could he be any less subtle about whatever it was he was doing?

"Here," the book was being handed back to him so he grabbed for it. It didn't budge when he tried to pull it away, "You can't let any of the others know you have it. Do you understand?" Stiles nodded and swallowed the fear in his throat. Derek took a step forward, "Don't ever let me find you wandering around again, or being locked in your room at night won't be the only thing that plagues you with fear."

,,,

The lightning from outside was casting strange shadows and figures across Stiles' room. His body jumped each time thunder clapped. He had been a shaking mess ever since Derek had left him in his room for the night. Stiles wondered if it had been Derek locking him in this entire time. He wouldn't put it past him. He seemed like the type of man who would enjoy hearing Stiles cry in hysteria. Stiles let out a pained breath his lungs hurt from the attack he'd had. He hated them they always left his body so cold and tired. He thought he would never have one again after his mother had passed but with all the stress lately and the threat to his life he wasn't exactly surprised.

His door handle started twisting and Stiles' eyes widened. He hoped he was hallucinating right now. He couldn't deal with this. The door had barely opened before something was slid inside the room, and it closed shut again. Stiles decided that getting onto the floor was the best choice of action. So he crept to the object in question and prayed the door would stay shut. A leather bound book sat in the shadow of the room. Stiles pulled it close the title had been rubbed off. Inside was an inscription in fine ink, it was scrawled in beautiful cursive.

_Homo homini lupus est_. Latin. Stiles knew very little Latin but he did know these words. He'd heard them only once before, from his father.

_ Man is a wolf to man._

* * *

_A/N: Wow I can't believe how long it took me to write this and finish it up! I'll try to work much faster on the next one I was really struggling with expressing my ideas into word form! I just started back at school too so please don't be too hard on me. If you find a mistake it's much appreciated if you point it out! And critique is always welcome! This chapter will also be uploaded on my Tumblr for any of those who would like to reblog it or like it. (Link is on my Profile as usual.)_


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